


The Importance of Being at The Wilde Cats Club

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Smut, Undercover, cross-dressing, detectives doing their job, men in lingerie, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Phryne must help an old friend, and the only way she can do it is by making her gentlemen friends dress up as women for a weekend.For the undercover trope challenge, and also for wishing Sarah a belated happy birthday - what can be more fitting than gifting my second smut fic ever to you? ❤︎





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarahtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/gifts).



> This fic sprung from the comment that there ought to be more men in lingerie in MFMM - this is my way to make Jack, Hugh, Bert and Cec dress up as women. It has been great fun to write, and I hope that some of that has translated onto the page. 
> 
> The story is set as a continuation of an earlier fic, "The Inspector Is In" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/10613751/chapters/23471379). It had the theme 'role reversal' and that theme is continued here, but you don't have to have read the first in order to read this.

It was a Wednesday evening, and Jack had been summoned to Wardlow. Usually that wasn’t the way they did it; he would just come by, for a nightcap or a dinner, and more often than not that would turn into something more. He stayed at Wardlow as much as he did at home these days, and some of his nights at home, he’d have Phryne over to enjoy life without servants. This had been their routine for a couple of months now. 

This time, though, he came because he was specifically asked. He was ten minutes late and excused himself to Mr Butler, who politely took his coat and hat and motioned for Jack to enter the parlour. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone. A customary grumpy Bert stood at the mantelpiece with an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Cec sat in one of the chairs, smiling, and only looking slightly out of place in the surroundings of Phryne’s teal coloured and warmly lit parlour. Next to him sat Hugh Collins, the two of them were sipping tea and eating cake. Phryne stood by the piano, looking like a conductor waiting to be allowed to start working. When she saw Jack enter the parlour door, she smiled her brightest smile.

“Hello, darling. So glad you could join us.”

Jack quickly flicked his eyes over the assembled men to see how they would react to the endearment, but no one seemed to particularly notice. _They know everything already. There is no escaping the special Fisher family._ Surprisingly, he found he didn’t mind very much. 

Mr Butler closed the doors behind him and followed in Jack’s wake to sit down in a chair, which was very unusual. Phryne gestured towards the piano stool next to her for Jack, who quickly sat down. There was an official feeling in the air; this was obviously a meeting and not a social gathering. Phryne looked around at the five gentlemen gathered in her home, and went straight for the point.

“The reason I have asked you all to come here is a case. A friend of mine has received severe threats to her life, both in writing and by the means of… horrible gifts. The last time, two days ago, it was the severed head of a rat.” 

There were a few mumbles.

“The accompanying note told her that her days were counted, calling her vermin and an abomination to this world. I need to figure out who the harasser is and stop him before anything happens.”

“Of course, Miss!” came Hugh’s voice, appalled and enthusiastic at the same time. 

“Too right!” was heard from Cec, half muffled from cake.

Jack assessed the situation: Phryne had called the five of them, her two policemen (yes, that really seemed to be the apt description), her two red raggers, and her butler. What could this possibly mean?

“My friend is a woman,” Phryne continued. ”But she used to be a man. She works as a lady performer at an almost respectable venue for alternate tastes, where she gives a wonderful spice to the establishment as a singer.” 

Bert made a small whistle. “ _The Wilde Cats?_ ” he asked. Phryne nodded. Jack supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised that the rather scandalous club was known in this group, seeing as it consisted of policemen, taxi drivers and Phryne Fisher.

“She is a dear friend of mine, and her position is precarious. She cannot really call the police –” Phryne’s eyes turned to Jack ”– not with her line of work and without there being more evidence, but I cannot risk her being harmed before there is enough to go on. I need this solved quickly.”

Jack nodded his understanding.

“You are all familiar with the injustices of this world,” she said, and all present men nodded, though probably thinking about entirely different things, “and the criminal likely feels safe with targeting a woman like Eleanore.” 

There were some agitated murmurs about the injustices in contemporary Australia.

“What is it you want us to do, Miss?” Cec said.

“Well, here’s where it becomes a little bit complicated,” Phryne said. She was pleased by their enthusiasm but knew she was about to drop the bomb. “I need you to become ladies of that establishment.”

Jack heard Hugh gasp.

“Just for a few nights. Nothing could be safer for my friend than having four trusted men around her if something happens. I need you to dress up and be there while _The Wilde Cats_ is open over the weekend, when we believe the harasser will try to follow through on his threat – we have advertised the program so insistently we will surely lure him out of his hiding place. You won’t have to actually perform on stage, though.”

There was a jumble of questions:

“Ladies, Miss?” 

“Oi, what do you mean, dress up?”

“On stage?”

Jack cut through it. “Four, you say. There are five of us here. Who’s out?” 

Phryne smiled and tilted her head as she watched him. “Why, I fear Mr Butler would not be so believable as a woman, Jack. He will man the home front.”

“Yes, Miss,” the butler said contentedly, managing a small bow from his sitting position.

“So, the rest of us…?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” Phryne answered. “I’ve already talked to the Commissioner and he is willing to let you two do this over the weekend. So it’s not completely unofficial.”

“Commissioner Fuller?” Jack asked, surprised. 

“He still owes me a favour.” Phryne winked at him, thinking about when she had filled the shoes as an Acting Honorary Inspector for three days at Fuller’s request. “Also, he is a friend of Eleanore’s family and interested in seeing this threat dealt with immediately.”

Jack still didn’t feel he had the full picture from her information, but nodded nonetheless.

“So, you see, gentlemen,” Phryne said, looking at them all in turn. “I need you to take one for the team.” 

“What team, Miss Fisher?” Bert, the Abbotsford man, challenged her.

She looked him square in the eyes. 

“My team.”


	2. Chapter 2

After the collected gentlemen – with a minimum of grumbling – had confirmed they would indeed help Miss Fisher with her idea, she clapped her hands. In joy, Jack first surmised, but it turned out to be the signal for Dot to enter the parlour, and she wasn’t alone. With her came Eleanore, the lady they would protect. And it was impossible to think of her as anything but a lady. She was tall and slim, with an elegant neck and long, beautiful auburn hair, the only thing giving away her background as a male her visible Adam’s apple and slightly square jaw, reminders that only increased her beauty and her effect on the people she met. She was dressed in a green dress stunning enough to have fitted even in Phryne’s wardrobe, radiating energy as she greeted every one of the men in turn.

“Delighted,” she said and held out her hand to Bert, who looked surprised at finding himself kissing it. Cec instead shook her hand with a firm handshake and a large grin, and the glamorous lady eyed him appreciatively. Hugh, who stood and talked to Dot, shook her hand while blushing furiously. Mr Butler made a bow.

While the others were busy, Jack took the chance to talk privately to Phryne by the piano.

“How do you know her?”

“Eleanore belongs to the Fitzgerald family. Her mother is close to Aunt P. We’ve known each other for ages.”

“Is she… was he an old friend?”

Phryne watched Jack for a moment. Was he ready to know these kinds of truths about her? She didn’t like the idea of lying or pretending, and he seemed collected enough, so she decided to try it out. 

“Yes. In all of the senses.” 

She watched closely as emotions flickered over Jack’s face. Confirmation, jealously, exasperation… but quite soon just acceptance. This wasn’t really that different from meeting the dashing aviator Compton, or hearing about Portuguese sailors. She decided he could manage a bit more of the truth. 

“Actually, both before and after she made her transition.” He looked at her, surprised, but not censoring. “Mac, though, she was only interested in her as a girl.” Phryne laughed silently at Jack’s expression, slightly overwhelmed by the information.

Jack realised, to his own surprise, that he wasn’t particularly jealous. Phryne belonged with him in the present. Perhaps even in the future. That really was everything he could ask for, or possibly even more than he could.

Eleanore came over and Phryne introduced them.

“Eleanore, this is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Jack, my dear friend Miss Eleanore Fitzgerald.”

“Oh, so it’s you that is Phryne’s –” Eleanore said, unsure of how to end that sentence. “A pleasure.”

She held out her hand and Jack found himself reacting like Bert, kissing it.

“You minx!” Phryne purred, “I’ve never managed to make him do that.” 

Eleanore laughed and retorted delightedly, “Have you lost your edge, Phryne darling?” 

The she turned serious. “You know how much I appreciate this, don’t you, Phryne? You are the best friend a girl could have, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Phryne threw her a smile and then turned to the room at large, raising her voice. 

“Alright, gentlemen, this is what we’ll do. Dot and Eleanore has offered to help adjusting clothes to fit you. We have some dresses to choose between, and together we’ll manage to make them fit _and_ look glamorous on you. Both Dot and Eleanore are famous for their delicate touch and eye for details.” 

She smiled at them both, and they straightened proudly. 

“Then, for the two coming days, Eleanore will teach you how to move – how to walk, smile, move your hands, greet other people, and how to not take up too much space.” The men exchanged glances. “Don’t fear. You won’t need to learn to move like actual women, only like men attempting to be ladies. You’re only supposed to be in drag.” 

Bert and Cec mumbled together, and Bert raised a hand.

“What about the ling-erry, Miss?” He hadn’t completely gotten the knack of the word yet. “Are we s’posed to have those too?” 

Phryne paused to think.

“I don’t think there is really need for that. You’re not supposed to get intimate with anyone enough for them to see your underwear, so you could stick to what’s more comfortable for you.”

“Nah,” protested Cec. “Then we won’t get into the role properly, will we? I mean, if the ladies can do it, and all the… other ladies” – he nodded to Eleanore, who beamed at him – “I can’t see why we shouldn’t.”

Jack was impressed. The red raggers seemed to just have talked them all into wearing women’s lingerie. And there was no way the policemen could chicken out if the raggers did it – a dynamic he was sure Phryne had counted on in collecting them all in the same place – and if they did chicken out, they would never hear the end of it. He sighed. So, it really was all or nothing.

“Maybe there aren’t ling-erry in the right sizes?” Hugh tried hopefully.

“Of course there are,” Eleanore answered. “There are all kinds of women. I’ll be happy to help.”

The last chance of escape thus lost, Jack sighed again and turned to Phryne. 

“Will we also need to wear make-up, Miss Fisher?”

“Of course – thank you, Jack! You’re a very attentive pupil,” Phryne answered. ”You will. I believe Dot can do Hugh, and I’ll be happy to give the Inspector a helping hand –” four sets of eyes turned away slightly embarrassed by the sultry look she gave the man at her side; only Eleanore and the unflappable Mr Butler didn’t give a sign of discomfort “– and Eleanore will help Cec and Bert. Bert, I think we should give you a Russian touch, it will go well with your decisive posture.” 

Bert looked sheepish, and a tiny bit proud.

Eleanore laughed and added “That’ll be perfect. Whereas you, Cecil, you should have more of a fairy, elfish look.” For some reason, Cec blushed at that.

“I’ve already started a dress for you, Hugh,” Dot proclaimed. “I knew you would agree to help and I know your size. It will go perfectly with your blue eyes.” 

Hugh’s eyes widened so much that everybody had the chance to admire just how blue they really were.

“And what will you do, Miss Fisher?” Jack asked in his deepest voice, but also with a little edge. “Will you also become part of this establishment?”

“Oh, I’m afraid that’s impossible, Jack. I can only appear as a patron. Everybody there already knows me and would recognize me instantly.”

Jack swallowed and decided he would not ask any follow-up questions. At least not when there were other people in the room. 

“We have already arranged a schedule,” Phryne proclaimed. “Dot has done the finetuning.”

She gestured at her companion, who continued.

“Yes. We start tomorrow at 10 o’clock here at Wardlow. Cec and Hugh will start with Eleanore, practicing movements, while Bert and the Inspector will be measured and fitted. After lunch, you switch places. In the afternoon, we will sit down together to learn about the establishment, Eleanore’s co-workers, and the layout of the building.”

It wasn’t only Hugh who stared at his fiancée as if she was an apparition; all the four men did. Mr Butler, on the other hand, beamed like a proud father. “And I assure you, the lunch will be something special,” he added.

“So, I’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” Phryne said. “Eleanore will be staying here, as we don’t want her to be even close to danger.”

As the group disbanded for the day, Phryne, Jack and Eleanore sat down over cocktails in the parlour to discuss the case in further detail. They tried to assess Eleanore's co-workers, former lovers, family, and friends, as well as potential enemies both on a personal, moralistic, and political scale. Finally, Phryne noticed her friend's exhaustion and realised what a full day it must have been for her, meeting all these new people, turning her own life inside out, and worrying.

Phryne stood and declared they would continue the next day. "Come, love, I’ll show you to your guestroom."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne practices her make-up skills on Jack and finds the result very alluring.

An hour later, everything settled, Jack followed Phryne into her boudoir. He had started to get used to the fact that he belonged there, that she wanted him there, but sometimes it still amazed him. Every time he had been in his own house for a couple of days, like now, it came back to him with renewed force how lucky he was that they’d made it this far.

“I cannot believe you got Fuller to agree to this,” he said to her back as she sat down at her vanity table to cleanse her face.

“You know he owes me a favour, after I took the role of Honorary Acting Inspector,” Phryne said, smiling at him via the mirror. “It was a hard job after all.” She winked at him.

“Of course,” he teased. “Taking over people’s offices and all.”

“So, I cashed in on that. Also, his lovely wife is a friend of Aunt P’s and they are both good friends with Ellen Fitzgerald.” Jack shot her a questioning glance. “Eleanore’s mother,” she all but whispered.

Phryne turned on her stool and eyed Jack. 

“You know, I think we could do with some practice already today, darling.”

Her smile was broad and teasing. Jack answered with a questioning head tilt. 

“It really is an art, and it takes time to get it right immediately. Let me put make-up on you.”

Jack took a breath to protest, out of habit, but realised she was right and just exhaled again. Why not? He would be working undercover with make-up in just a few days’ time, he could just as well get used to it, and it was clear Phryne would delight in it. 

“Lead the way, Miss Fisher,” he said with a quirk of his mouth, and as she rose and gestured for him to sit, he took her place by the vanity.

He eyed the bottles and brushes and boxes and… _things_ on the table.

“Where do I start?”

“Oh no, I won’t let you try for yourself already, darling, you are far too impatient. First, I’ll have to see what suits you, you know – your eyes, your skin type, the shape of your face.” Phryne’s voice betrayed just how much fun she found this, and Jack was in no position to deny her. He could only drink in her enthusiasm.

“What skin type would that be?” he asked in that low, seductive voice that always made Phryne’s spine tingle.

“European, fair, though not as light as mine, and without freckles. Probably Scottish,” she answered. “Possibly German, Dutch or Scandinavian blended into it.” 

He shot her a questioning glance in the mirror. She bent closely over his shoulder and picked up a brush and a… thing. 

“Turn around to the side,” she admonished and squatted down in front of him, caressing his thighs in the process. “Close your eyes,” she whispered and Jack did that. 

She applied something on his face and eyelids and rubbed it in. It tickled and he hmpfed, but he tried to stay as still as he could. Then she rummaged some more, and brushed something onto his cheeks only – it felt like a caress and he inhaled so deeply that she protested that it disturbed her. Then she busied herself around his eyes for what felt like an eternity, hands and pen and brush touching and fiddling and stroking. She spent quite some time with his eyelashes. He felt elated and very cared for. 

“I can’t decide whether I should pluck your eyebrows,” she said and he quickly opened his eyes again.

“You what?”

“I mean, a lady would. But you are only meant to be a man dressing like a lady.”

He wiggled his eyebrows tentatively into the mirror, a little stunned at how his eyes stood out so clearly with the make-up she had put there. They glowed blue, perfectly outlined and with a dark shadow on his eyelids that seemed to increase their size considerably. 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d much prefer to keep them, _darling_.” He emphasized the last word meaningfully. “I do have a life after this stint, you know. At the police station.”

Phryne sized him up and nodded reluctantly. 

“I guess that’s reasonable. Oh, one more thing.” 

She seized a small pen from the table and leaned over him, her scent rather overpowering him. She was so close, he just wanted to pull her to him, but he swallowed and checked himself. This wasn’t meant to be a seduction. She put her left hand on his cheek, so his mouth was pulled a little straighter, and with the other hand, she started to make an outline on his lips. It tickled and it was all he could not to lean away from her. When she was done, she let her hand linger, caressing his cheek and his ear, allowing the hand to drift into his hair while she looked him in the eyes. 

“You are incredibly alluring this way, Jack,” she said, her voice all seduction and honey.

She quickly caught herself and let him go, swapping from pen to lipstick. With a sure hand – a hand that had done this a million times – she filled in the outline with a deeply red colour, her favourite. Then she took a step back to admire her work. Jack with coloured lips was a sight. She felt her gut coil at the contrast between his usual, pale lips and these painted ones, so different while still making the exact same slightly downturned smile. The sight of his painted lips set to his large ears and set jaw just enhanced her giddiness.

She pressed her lips together and motioned how he should do the same and he followed her lead, pushing his lips together. She smiled, and he followed her lead in that too. 

“Oh, hang on,” she said, and procured a piece of paper. “Bite the excess colour off on this one, like this.” 

She showed by putting the paper between her own lips and smooching it. He watched her intently, but didn’t move to take the paper she offered. Instead, after a slight pause, he pulled her to him and took her head between his hands so he could plant a kiss on her lips. Her “no” was quickly muffled by the meeting of their lips, and he kissed her deeply, passionately, with tongue and lips and teeth. 

When they resurfaced, she looked at him and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over her face. He looked ridiculous, with the lipstick smudged and forming a mad pattern around his mouth. 

“Well, you should see yourself,” was all he said as he gave her a small smile, and she turned to the mirror to see red smudges over her mouth. She traced her own lips with her finger, trying to make sense of the pattern.

“See there, a lesson in the importance of first using the paper,” she said, locking his gaze via the mirror. 

He echoed her gesture, tracing his own lips and beyond, touching where he was still red. 

“Or not,” he said and winked at her.

“Jack Robinson, you do know how to surprise a girl,” she said, moving to stand over him and lean down so she could kiss him softly again. She caressed his upturned face, trying with her fingers to either rub off the colour or smudge it even further, he wasn’t sure which. It made him smile.

She retreated and took his head in both hands, watching his face intently.

“You look beautiful in eyeshadow,” she said, then turned his head so he could see for himself in her mirror. 

“Not bad,” he answered, and with such a mischievous smile and mock admiring look she could not help but laugh.

“I know this case is serious, and that Eleanore is in danger,” he said. “But I also find it’s rather broadening my horizons.” 

He grabbed her by her waist and bottom and rose so he could carry her, just laughing when she gave a squee and complained about his bold venture. He dropped her down on the bed and crawled onto it after her, capturing her arms and pinning them against the cover above her head with one of his own. She squirmed and arched her back invitingly, laughing as he captured her lips again with his own while caressing her with his free hand, from her cheek over her shoulder down to her breast.

“My, my, we are bold today,” she said when he released her lips, and he arched his eyebrow above her. 

“I guess it comes with the power of the feminine?” he suggested. 

The truth was he found it rather liberating to partly play a role, to both be himself and not in the most playful manner. The bad reviews of his stint as the General Major in an amateur production of _The Pirates of the Penzance_ hadn’t managed to take that away.

He nestled his free hand in under her shirt so he could touch her with only the lingerie between them. Then he dragged up the shirt so he could access her breast with his mouth, while still keeping her hands captured. He teased her, sucking and licking through the silky material, and she mewled with pleasure. Until she’d had enough and moved to free her hands – he had no real pressure on them while being bent down to her chest. She put her freed hands around his head, so she could caress him and pull slightly at his hair, which made him moan into her nipple. 

She pushed them both up so they were sitting. She discarded her clothes and eyed his meaningfully, and he followed suit, taking off his shirt and rising to pull his pants off. As he was nude, his eyes caught the vanity, and he leaned over it and applied some more lipstick, just to then crawl onto the bed and capture her to kiss her breast. He left a bright, red, rather perfect mark of his lip there and looked very pleased with himself. 

“There you go – for all the times you’ve stained my collar.”

She couldn’t help smiling at him for his cheek and reached down to caress his length, rather insistently so it hardened considerably. He put his hand over her sex in return, and tentatively put one finger into her folds; enticed by her wetness, he alternated between caressing her nub and her entrance. Then he attacked her mouth again, and for every time he kissed her, he emerged slightly less red on his lips. 

Phryne leaned back and willed him to continue his caresses. He kept sitting up so he could watch his finger slip through her curls and into her, enjoying the sight as well as the sound of her moan. He pushed inside her until she said “more”, then he did the same with two fingers, until she again said “more”, and he pushed three fingers inside her, just to retreat and pay attention to her tempting nub again. Her squirms told him exactly how much she enjoyed it. He shifted and laid down below her so he could put his mouth on her cunt properly, while nestling his arms around her thighs to spread her and hold her in place. He knew this was one of her favourite ministrations, and it was rather his own too. He tried out taking her with his tongue, then licked and sucked at her alternately while caressing her hip with his hand.

She stuttered and moaned, and when she came in his face, he felt rather victorious. He rose to come closer to her, but first he threw a glance in the mirror, noticing he had hardly any lipstick left. With a grin, he lay down beside her, and she turned to him, kissing him fiercely and pressing him down on his back. She moaned from the taste of herself on his tongue and his lips.

“I. Love. Your. Tongue,” she panted between their kisses, and diving into his mouth and proving what she could do with hers; it was enough to make him gasp. 

She raised her head to look down on him as he laid there; all angles and planes and beautiful limbs, his eyes thoroughly magnetic with their black outline. She caressed his shoulder, chest and stomach, stopping her hand teasingly just above his cock, barely touching his pubic hair and his base, which made him grunt in anticipation. He shot a glance down to her teasing hand, and then locked eyes with her. 

“Are you content to stop there?” he asked. “You are such a tease.”

“Of course I am,” she answered. “I just had to stop to admire you in eyeshadow again.”

He blinked slowly and suggestively at her so she could take in her work more closely, and she kissed his eyes, his cheek, his nose with featherlight kisses, just to lick into his mouth and kiss him again. 

“Is this how one removes make-up usually? Then I’m all for it,” he quipped, but she could hear from his voice that he wasn’t as unaffected as the words might seem. She looked down into his face.

“It could be for you, in this undercover mission,” she promised. 

He took hold of her hand that still rested on his stomach and motioned it downward. She grabbed his cock happily, stroking it in that way she knew could make him come undone in a few minutes, then slowing down and stroking him lighter.

She kissed him while caressing his crown with her thumb, and he growled into her mouth “You are such a tease.”

“And you love it,” she answered, just to pick up her speed and pressure again. 

When he seemed to be panting more randomly, she moved to instead hover over him so she could take him inside her, but he grabbed her bottom and pushed her up instead, to make her ride his mouth. She keened and laughed from the sensation on her already sensitive flesh, glorying in the feel of his tongue and his chin, and his hands kneading her behind. Only after that did he allow her to position herself above him and take him in to ride him properly. His eyes widened at the feeling of her engulfing him, and the sight of her moving above him. Their eyes met. At first, he didn’t understand why she smiled so softly at him. Then he remembered he probably looked a complete mess. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he said, retaliating by pushing up his pelvis under her so she couldn’t control the pace all by herself. She gasped. He stretched his arm up so he could take her breast in his hand and smooth over its surface, tracing the mark he left there earlier, circling around her nipple, and then catching it, pinching it. When he had made her moan, he rose so he could take it in his mouth, using his other arm as support. He took as much of her tip as he could into his mouth, then changed into licking and sucking, and the moaning sounds she made was what finally made him succumb to his release. He let go of her breast and steadied himself with both his hands as he pushed up into her just before he exploded. 

He collapsed on his back, panting heavily, and she continued her movements for a little while before faltering, positively looking like the cat that ate the canary. She undulated her hips so he gasped uncomfortably before she let him slip out completely.

“I think all your lipstick is gone now,” she said sweetly as she laid down beside him, and he embraced her and hugged her to him fiercely, enjoying the feeling of her warmth and her soft skin.

“That’s lucky,” he answered into her hair. “I’m not sure I could have managed more cleansing.”

“I could,” she said teasingly, and he knew what she meant by that; he had learnt that already the first week they had been together, that their rhythm wasn’t always the same. He let her lie down on her back and caressed her breast and stomach, then slipped into her again with his finger, enticed by the sensation of their joint bodily fluids. Concentrating on her sensitive spot more than anything, he touched her until she trashed and keened and then, finally, calmed down, completely satisfied. 

She moved slightly and rolled to her side so she could kiss him and caress his chest.

“We’d better sleep, since we’re the hosts tomorrow,” she said.

He nodded and tried to find a comfortable position while keeping contact with her as much as possible. She let him hold her for a while, as she knew how much he enjoyed that, before she extricated herself to the other half of the bed so they could both get some proper sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess I did not research 1920s make-up as much as I should have; hope I didn't make too much of a mess out of it.


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday morning saw Jack and Bert attempting to outdo each other in grumpiness, standing beside each other in one of the smaller guest rooms at Wardlow while Dot and Phryne attempted to measure how much of the dresses needed to be changed. They heard laughs from the parlour, where Cec and Hugh were practicing how to walk and behave with Eleanore. 

“No, Constable, that is _not_ how a woman looks seductive,” a voice carried through the door, and when Jack caught Bert’s eye, they couldn’t help snorting. After that, the fitting was made in a much more pleasant atmosphere.

Bert really did get a Russian touch, with red details to a black dress that was not too slim-fitting, and he was obviously pleased. The head piece chosen for him especially piqued his interest, and he gazed admiringly at himself in the mirror. He also enjoyed that Jack obviously found it embarrassing to dress up in women’s clothes with Bert in the same room. For all the habits of dressing together in sports and in the army, that experience hadn’t included silk and dresses.

Jack’s dress was blue, with an embroidered detail of a peacock spreading out from the waist down, and he guessed Phryne must have picked it out specifically. She wanted to tease him for his propriety, and tease out his vanity, he was sure. It was a good fit, though, he decided as he stroked the delicate material. Jack had always felt that a good fit was the most important thing with clothes. 

Dot fussed around his feet – for some reason she was completely unfazed with these men undressing and dressing up as women around her. She really had been in the employ of Phryne Fisher long enough. She pinched at the fabric and decided it needed to be shortened with a decimetre and slightly altered in the back for his best comfort.

Jack couldn’t help but follow Bert’s example and checked himself out in the mirror. The dress was rather tightfitting on his upper body, not too low-cut, and flowed out a little below his waist to allow for his muscular thighs. He found he could walk reasonably well in it, even if he couldn’t take his usual policeman strides. 

He felt relieved – this wasn’t all that bad – and was ready to leave the fitting room when Phryne came back with a suspiciously bright smile. 

“And now for the lingerie,” she exclaimed. 

Jack and Bert exchanged a look of worried resignation. There was obviously no end to their humiliation this morning. Dot took their dresses to go and make the adjustments immediately. Phryne was banished from the room as they were supposed to take off everything. The two men took off their underclothes until they stood naked, then looked at the small heaps in front of them. There was nothing for it than to dig in. 

“How does one even enter this?”

“There is no way I’ll ever manage.”

Bert succeeded to fit himself into a pair of luxurious black tap pants. 

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever had this close to me,” he joked, but he looked rather askance at the accompanying lace bra. Jack turned around a piece of gorgeous cloth and muttered under his breath – he had extricated Phryne out of this kind of things more than once, how could it be so hard the other way? He didn’t even know where to start with this… these…

“… they’re camiknickers,” Phryne assisted, peeking her head into the room. “Come now, gentlemen, let me help you.” 

They couldn’t even shoo her away, because they needed her. When they had managed to dress – Bert in a two-piece black outfit, where the pants flowed down over his legs in an enticing lace pattern, Jack in peach coloured camiknickers in one piece and with some elegant lace details, both standing almost but not quite leisurely in this brave new world of sartorial elegance – Dot was back with their dresses. Jack could tell Dot still had her gut reaction in her, to cover her eyes, but she fought against it and simply smiled at them while handing them their clothes. 

“You do look wonderful, gentlemen,” Phryne purred, not managing to keep away from caressing Jack’s hip in passing. “I am sure this will help you get into character.”

Resolutely and without a word they started dressing again. It was much easier to get the dresses on already the second time around. 

The lunch was truly delicious, just as Mr Butler had promised, and Bert and Jack sitting there eating in their dresses attracted a few looks from Cec and Hugh.

“Just wait ‘til it’s your turn,” Bert grumbled, and soon the food took over everyone’s focus. 

After lunch, it was Jack’s and Bert’s turn to resort to the parlour to be taught about behaving in a feminine manner. Keeping the clothes on proved to make it a slightly less difficult ordeal. Eleanore gave them some classic poses to practice on, moving her arms as if they were swan’s necks rather than human limbs, putting them in her hair, on her hips, and making them follow her lead. Bert proved to be a rather reluctant pupil.

“Try to be a little less assertive,” Eleanore tried. “Don’t stand with your legs too broadly set apart. And try to move as if you want to look aesthetically pleasing.” 

Bert’s snort was quickly quelled by a look from her.

“You are, you know. Otherwise too, and even more now, with these beautiful gowns on.”

Bert blushed and spent the rest of the lesson trying to do what his teacher told him.

Hugh and Cec got dressed up, just like their fellow men had, and when they rejoined the parlour for the planning session, Jack’s eyes widened at the sight. Cec looked like something taken out of an illustration to a fairy tale book – his dress shimmering in a turquoise colour, the skirt flowing from his hips like a cascade of water. 

It turned out Hugh had the most revealing dress of them all – the one Dot had made herself. It was rather short, in black with a white fringe in the lower end, and he wore black stockings to it. The dress left both arms and part of his back uncovered and showed off his flawless skin beautifully. The décolletage was square, and it looked alluringly female while simultaneously giving away that it wasn’t a woman wearing it, but rather a well-built, muscular, flat chested man. Dot eyed her fiancée admiringly, and she couldn’t help to touch him now and then. 

“You really do look beautiful, Hugh,” she said. He straightened and looked more self-confident than she had ever seen him. “I think I have an idea about your hair too.” She flicked her eyes to her mistress. “I’ll find you a wig so you can have the same hairstyle as Miss Phryne.” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent plotting to get to know the club and its employees. There were typically a few performers every night. When Eleanore was on, she was set as the highlight of the evening, usually after more humorous acts. The owner, Mr Bálint, had had her in his employ for close to two years, and the establishment was very successful, attracting a crowd of cross-dressers and gay people as well as Bright Young Things who appreciated the openness and daring style of the place. Jack was slightly surprised by the extent of the establishment; he hadn’t realised how large the interest in alternate tastes had become in his native city. The bar was manned by women dressed as men, and vice versa; they seemed to be only cross-dressing, like Jack himself, not truly transformed like Eleanore. It was decided that Jack and Cec would pose as waitresses, thus being able to move around in the room and keep their eyes on the audience, while Hugh and Bert would keep closer to Eleanore and function like unofficial bodyguards. 

“You’ll be in good hands,” Phryne said to her friend.

“I have no doubt,” she answered. “And dashing ones, as well.”

Finally, they went through the layout of the building, sporting no less than three entrances, only one of whom was meant for the public, and noted the weak spots they would have to be extra attentive about.

As the afternoon grew into evening, most of the guests went home. Eleanore was staying over another night; Phryne was not prepared to let her out of her sight. Over a post-dinner chat they turned to more pleasant conversation, catching up, discussing people and places they had both known. Eleanore also made a point of including Jack, treating him to more stories about young Phryne’s adventures than Phryne felt was entirely appropriate.

 

***

 

Phryne and Jack retreated to their boudoir. He was still wearing the dress, and as soon as they had entered and closed the door, Phryne turned to her companion.

“You look stunning, Jack,” she said. “I cannot believe how smoothly you walk in that.”

“I have to,” he growled. “I’m afraid it would rip into pieces otherwise.” 

She stared at him, devouring him with her eyes, until he felt uneasy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, coming back to the present. “You’re just so beguiling.” 

She reached out to trace the pattern of the peacock over his side and stomach and hip, and the tail of it that passed over his hidden cock. He just looked at her and tried to discern her expression as she followed the outline of him, an outline she partly discovered and partly produced with her touch. She sat down on the bed and pulled him to her so she could kiss him through the material, an action that immediately made the outline easier to see. She moved to open her mouth and take more of his silk-covered length in her mouth.

He moaned and put his fingers in her hair, but not to keep her there, rather to push her away. 

“What?” she asked, a little breathless from her explorations.

“We cannot ruin the dress, Phryne. It’s hard to replace.”

She scoffed, but nodded and went back to just touching with her hand. He groaned.

“I’m not sure that’s helping.”

She smiled and rose before him.

“Alright. Let’s get you out of that dress, then, Inspector.” She smiled at how naturally it came, a sentence she couldn’t even in her wildest dreams have guessed she would have a reason to say.

She helped him remove the delicate dress, and watched him as he neatly hung it on a clothes hanger. He was stunning in the lingerie too – it so obviously wasn’t meant for a body like his, and seemed to cover all the wrong places. It was positively alluring with a man that was so comfortable with himself and his own body that he could wear lingerie without feeling embarrassed; it was a side of him Phryne was delighted to discover. She walked up to him, standing flush to his back, and caressed his side all the way to the bottom, then slipped one hand in front and caressed his chest, luxuriating in the patches of silk and lace between them.

“I cannot believe Bert and Cec talked you all into wearing lingerie,” she said against the skin of his neck. He could feel her lips curl into a smile. 

“I can’t either. That was the most absurd challenge.”

“I’m not entirely sure I agree about absurd,” Phryne answered and made him turn around and face her. She pressed her body against him as she kissed him. She shuddered as her hands felt his firm ass through the softness of the silk, that material that usually were only on her body. “I admit to finding it rather enticing.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand and gazed into her eyes, eyebrow arching.

“Yes?” he smiled.

“Yes.” 

She dropped to her knees in front of him, stroking his length with her hand and then repeating that outlining with her mouth she had indulged in earlier, humming contentedly. When he put his hand in her hair this time, it wasn’t to stop her from what she was doing. She took him in her mouth as much as she could while the camiknickers restrained him, stroking the base of him with her hand and using her tongue to both prod at him and make the material wet, then taking him as much into her mouth as possible. The constriction and the layers increased his pleasure, somehow making it simultaneously real and a tease. When he made a pleading noise, she smiled against his cock, just to rise to her feet again. 

“I think it might be time to remove this layer, Inspector,” she said and pinched his underwear.

“I’m not entirely sure how,” he confessed.

“You’re lucky you’re not supposed to wear a corset,” she replied, then helped him out of the delicate underwear. “You have chosen an excellent era to go undercover as a lady.” She caressed his newly freed hips and cock.

“It seems I have,” he said, returning the favour by helping her remove her clothes and caressing the parts of her that was gradually exposed. 

“I think you’re wearing trousers deliberately,” he said as he picked up her fallen slacks and folded them over a chair.

“Of course,” she said, pulling him back onto the bed so she could hover over him and kiss the top of his length. “Someone needs to wear the trousers in this relationship.”

Then she took him in her mouth, ready to devour her unexpectedly relaxed Inspector in more than one way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the outfits in this chapter is based on a very specific model. Hugh's looks, and some of his behaviour, are inspired by the magnificent Tom Holland when performing in Lip Synch Battle (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhSH5_BcTEg).
> 
> As a lingerie guide, I used this: http://www.thelingerieaddict.com/2013/05/great-gatsby-fever-20-pieces-of-vintage-1920s-lingerie.html


	5. Chapter 5

Friday afternoon, they all gathered again in Phryne’s parlour. There were many preparations still to be done. They repeated their instructions from the day before, dressed up in their female attire, and were finally given their make-up. Dot was impressed with the ease Phryne managed to put colour on the Inspector; she had much more trouble with her fiancée, who was inordinately ticklish and giggly. Together, the three women proved to be quite efficient in putting make-up on the four men. Jack even took the chance to explain to Hugh how he could bite off the lipstick on a paper. That earned him a meaningful look from Phryne. 

“You truly are an excellent pupil, Jack.” 

Dot blushed just from the tone in her voice.

When they were all done up, Hugh surely was a sight as a woman. His eyes were expressive to the extreme, and the wig Dot had procured gave him dark locks of approximately Phryne’s length, falling into his face in the most endearing way.

Dot looked at him with pride. “You’re a more beautiful woman than I’ve ever been myself,” she said and caressed his head. 

“Never, Dottie.” He turned to her with large eyes. “That’s impossible.”

“You’re at least more daringly dressed than I’ve ever been,” she reconciled. “And more uncomfortably. I could never wear a dress like that.”

Hugh beamed proudly.

“Now there’s only one thing left,” Phryne proclaimed and clapped her hands together. Jack found he didn’t completely trust that smile on her face; it was too bright for comfort. “You need names.” 

The men looked at each other.

“Dot has made a list,” Phryne said, and as if she’d been waiting for this moment all morning, Dot produced a paper. 

Where did that come from? Jack wondered. Did her skirts somehow include pockets? His sure didn’t, as he had been made painfully aware of earlier when he’d tried one of his usual stances, leaning with his hands in his pockets. He had never before noticed how difficult it could be to have hands hanging around, and nowhere to put them.

“Yes, well, some are easy. Bert will be Anastasia,” Dot said. Bert nodded his approval at that, and Cec laughed and nudged him, “Anastasia, ol’ mate.”

“Hugh will be Amelia,” Dot continued, turning to him. “I’ve always loved that name, since I was a child,” she explained and fired one of her warmest smiles to him. “Cec will be Anna and Inspector, you will be Arabella.”

Jack looked panicked. _“Arabella?_ ”

“It’s only for a couple of days, Jack. I’m sure you can channel an Arabella for that long,” Phryne said, laughing.

It was time to head off to The Wilde Cats. They managed to fit in the Hispano-Suiza, driven by Mr Butler, and the taxi, driven by Bert in his dress. Phryne and Dot stayed at home. 

At the club, they were greeted by a Mr Bálint, big and burly, well-dressed in a tux and with a surprisingly sloppy handshake. 

“Welcome, welcome! You have no idea how relieved I am to have your presence here,” he said in a slightly accented English. “And may I compliment you on your excellent attire? Expertly done.” The four of them smiled, slightly embarrassed.

Mr Bálint introduced them to their respective places. Jack and Cec got a quick lecture in being waitresses; Bert and Hugh explored the backstage to see everything was in order. 

Soon, the guests started to arrive. They were all kinds of people – rather more daringly dressed than a usual club, but with the same festive atmosphere. Jack eyed every newcomer to determine their position, until a woman at the bar shouted at him: “Oi, get a move on! We have customers to serve.”

He went on to greet the people at the closest table and ask for their preferred drinks. It was lucky he had a trained memory, or he would quickly have lost his place.

At eleven o’clock, the club was rather full of people drinking and smoking and laughing, and the entertainment started properly; three cross-dressed performers making a parodic dance number to a popular song about eternal love. There was a movement at the door, and Jack was unprepared for the sight of Phryne, Mac and Dot entering the establishment. 

Phryne wore a beautiful and extra scandalous gown. Mac had a colourful version of her usual men’s wear, with an incredible waistcoat in black and white, and Dot was slightly more daringly clothed than usual, and only looking a little bit nervous. They were cordially greeted by the owner – it was obvious he knew Phryne and Mac quite well, while Dot was a new acquaintance – and led to a table. 

“And what can I get for you ladies?” Jack said in Phryne’s ear as he’d made it over to their table.

Phryne turned around and eyed him, slowly, from top to toe. 

“It seems the waitresses here are just getting more and more attractive,” she purred and put a hand softly on his arm. “Three glasses of the Sauvignon, please.”

“Sauvignon Blanc for me, actually,” Dot piped in.

He went to retrieve their drinks and were soon back.

“I didn’t know you were supposed to be here too, Miss Fisher,” he wheezed at her through the music as he served them. 

“Of course, you can’t expect me to miss all the fun,” she answered sweetly. “Oh, and can we have some water too, please, _Miss Arabella?_ ”

Hugh, while keeping a low profile, attracted flirtations from several of the patrons, men and women alike. He managed to keep rather well to the way of moving they’d been taught, Jack noted impressed. Bert did less so. He kept standing to the side, and Jack found he felt rather secure having the man’s attentive eyes scanning the periphery. Cec as a waitress was grace itself. He didn’t seem to need to follow any rules or lessons, it was like the dress simply inspired him to act in the right way. 

“He hardly even seems like a man in drag,” Eleanore whispered approvingly to Jack as she passed by.

There was another movement at the door. Jack noticed that Phryne switched her stance, glaring at him rather pointedly. Obviously, she feared this could be their man. Jack felt his heartbeat rise. The man was properly dressed, without company, and Jack watched him closely, signalling to the others to take their positions. Hugh and Bert kept close to Eleanore, who kept on her normal appearance, speaking with a few guests by the side of the stage. The newcomer sat down at a table, glared around for service, and when Jack showed up at his table, ordered a Gin and Tonic.

Jack quickly came back with the requested drink and a “Here you are, sir.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be all charming?” the man complained, fixing his eyes in Jack’s, and Jack realised he had probably frowned as he was busy assessing the situation. He tried to loosen up his face and put on a fake smile.

“That’s better,” the customer nodded. “A lady should always smile. Makes the world brighter, don’t it, luv?” 

To Jack’s horror, the man even patted his behind. He was very close to giving the man a scolding, the only thing preventing him the sight of Phryne smiling wickedly from the corner of his eyes. Jack just moved away, privately fuming. 

When he passed Phryne on his way to the bar, she whispered “A lady should always smile and be ready to brighten the mood of any man around her. Didn’t you know, _Arabella_.” 

He shot her a glance of bewilderment. 

“No, no,” she said and patted his behind in the same way the man had. “I said _smile_ , Arabella.”

The smile he gave her as he moved away to the bar was exasperated, but also rather amused.

Phryne had to admit her four gentlemen looked wonderful. It was a pleasure to see them move around, even as she was on guard for odd movements. There was no way they could beat Eleanore herself, though, which became clear as soon as she came onto the stage. The room fell silent in anticipation, the patrons ceasing to ask for new drinks so the waitresses could relax and be on the look-out. In a beautiful, very deep voice, she started to sing “Someone to Watch Over Me”. Bert had to nudge the starry eyed Cec so he didn’t only look at the stage, but also helped scan the room.

To their combined relief and disappointment, nothing untoward happened during the night. At least not more than a group of friends trying to persuade Hugh to come to their afterparty, promising all kinds of debauched behaviour. When the group finally left without him, he was kissed on both cheeks and complimented for his wonderful skin.

As the club closed and the staff started to clean up the place, they all went home. Eleanore went to sleep immediately in her guestroom. Phryne and Jack stayed up another hour to analyse the evening over a whisky, before tiredly falling into their bed.

 

*

 

The Saturday was much like the Friday. After a leisurely lunch together, Phryne and Eleanore shared gossip about the guests from the night before until Jack felt his ears burn rather red. He wasn’t used to this much of… delicate knowledge about his fellow men and women. They laughed delightedly at his discombobulation, and made Jack feel like he was much more prudish than he ever had thought. Phryne put forward her theories about why the harasser surely would strike this night, based on his messages, and they fell into a more contemplative mood.

When the others arrived in the afternoon, the men dressed up together again – it was even easier than the day before, they were truly getting the hang of this. Having their make-up applied, they already felt like something of veterans. They also felt more at ease at _The Wilde Cats_ and the atmosphere there the second time around, taking their positions easily, Jack and Cec walking around and taking orders.

As Eleanore went on the stage to start her performance, blowing a kiss to the assembled crowd, Jack noticed a guest behaving oddly in the corner of his eye. At one of the tables, there were two men sitting; they didn’t interact, and Jack had noticed before they weren’t there as a company, but shared the table because the club was so crowded. One of these men, impeccably dressed in a tux, looked nervous and made a movement towards his pocket that made Jack’s hair stand on end. He made their agreed-on sign with his hand, and knew he had the others’ attention. Bert and Hugh stood at the side of the stage, ready; Bert was scanning the room to make sure there were no other suspect activities they would miss. Cec was to the left from Jack, slightly behind the table of the two men and moving towards it while pretending to look for empty glasses. Phryne, Mac and Dot – occupying the same table as the day before – were similarly posed for action.

Suddenly – for everyone else in the room, but not for the undercover workers – the man rose and pulled out a pistol from his pocket. He aimed it at Eleanore, who was standing in the spotlight on the stage, singing about a man’s hardened heart. 

“He’s got a gun!” someone shouted. She stopped singing and the room went quiet, several of the guests agitated but not daring to move.

“You are an abomination!” the man started. “You don’t deserve to –”

He didn’t get any further. There were instant, coordinated movements from several sides around him, and he didn’t have time to think, or even consider pulling the trigger, before a strong hand hit his wrist. He lost the pistol and found himself on the floor. From one second to the other, there were two men in women’s dresses of different hues of blue holding him down to the floor, a third one in black who had just taken an enormous leap up to the stage – to a flurry of gasps and admiration from the audience – to protectively cover Eleanore, and a Russian woman scanning the rest of the room to make sure it was secure. To top it all up, a beautifully dressed lady in a raven-black bob stood above him, aiming her golden gun to his face. 

He was utterly defeated, and by an incredibly glamorous squad.

“Richard!” Eleanore exclaimed, shocked. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“You know him?” Phryne asked over her shoulder, her eyes still boring into him.

“He’s my cousin. It’s Dick,” she all but spat, then turned to the man, still talking from the safety of Hugh Collins’ arms, “I know you don’t approve of how I choose to live my life and the friends I have, Richard. But how you can think that this” – she pointed at the weapon lying on the floor, while moving away from Hugh to stand by herself in the spotlight of the stage – “ _this_ could be any better for the Fitzgerald name, I cannot fathom.”

She wasn’t prepared for the applause that followed her short speech. During the action, they had completely forgotten that there was still an audience in the room, and as Eleanore looked up to the surprise commotion, the guests of _The Wilde Cats_ applauded her, rising to a standing ovation. Her eyes went blank as she watched her loyal audience, and as she didn’t know what to do, she gazed around the room and finally made a little curtsey. Mr Bálint came forward to hug her fiercely, informing them he had phoned the police – the present specimens could hardly be the ones doing the arresting and escorting, even if Mac had assisted them with handcuffs she had brought specifically. They could be sure Richard Fitzgerald had no way of causing any more ruckus.

It turned out Hugh’s dress had ripped as he had taken his leap to cover Eleanore.

“That’s a pity,” Dot teased. “It rather suited you, Hugh.”

“Well, it’s lucky my fiancée is so good at sewing, then,” he winked at her, making her go a little bit red.

The police came to fetch Richard Fitzgerald. It was Constable Perkins that had Saturday duty this weekend, and he was slightly taken aback by meeting his colleague and his boss dressed as women. There wasn’t need for more than one chastising look from the Inspector for him to close off all his questions and remarks and just get the job done – taking Mr Fitzgerald with him to the cells of City South, and not taking note of anything else in the unusual premise. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” was the Inspector’s final words as Perkins left.

At the same time, Eleanore stood talking with Cec.

“You are a natural, Cecil. You’re welcome to do this again if you ever feel the inclination,” she said to the obviously quite moved red ragger. 

“Thanks, Eleanore,” he said, smiling his full, kind smile. “I guess I probably won’t. But I’ll definitely come watching you sing again.”

She blew him a kiss and turned to Phryne.

“Thank you, darling. Who would have thought the culprit was so close at hand?”

Phryne just nodded, sad and relieved in equal measure. She had known Dick Fitzgerald as a child, and wouldn’t have thought him the type. 

“Do you feel safe now, Eleanore?”

“I do. Thank you, love.” 

The women kissed each other on the cheek and then met in a large hug.

 

***

 

At home again, Phryne sat down on her bed with a contented sigh.

“I’m happy Eleanore feels safe again. She has so much to fight against, just for being who she is.”

Jack sat down beside her, taking her hands in his. “She does. But she also has a hell of a lot of support,” he said, smiling his lopsided smile. “And I’m relieved we could solve a murder before it was even committed, for once.”

“And Aunt P will be beside herself with happiness,” Phryne continued. “I asked Mr Butler to wake us extra early tomorrow because she’ll be here first thing to beam at me.” She glanced at him. “For all her interest in proper behaviour, her loyalty is always to family.”

“… Do you want me to leave?” Jack asked, tentatively, feeling the weight of the moment.

“Of course not. The sooner she gets used to you being here, the better,” Phryne answered, causing Jack’s heart to beat an extra beat or two. 

She kissed him on his nose and then watched him intently.

“I quite enjoy you in make-up, darling,” she said, watching his eyebrows turn up in a wordless snark: _Really? I hadn’t noticed._

“But all has its time, I guess.” 

She rose and fetched cotton and make-up removal, and as he complied with her wish that he would close his eyes, she started to clean him, caressing away his extra layers. He sat still with eyes closed and his face turned upwards, trusting her to take care of him, and she felt her heart constrict at the sight. Who could have thought this, just some months ago? When she stopped, he opened his eyes again to find her sitting there staring at him in an odd way. 

“What?” he asked.

“It just struck me again. How utterly beautiful you are, Jack.”

He turned a little bit red. Then he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his, caressing her neck with one hand. It was the softest, sweetest kiss.

“So, how would you like me tonight, Miss Fisher?” Jack asked with his deepest voice and a twinkle in his eyes.

She seemed to ponder the question. 

“I think I could go for just fully naked tonight, Jack.” 

He smiled as he went into the bathroom to clean up and undress, and climbed into the bed. Soon after Phryne came back from her bathroom visit, dressed in the most exquisite, and almost completely see-through, blue lingerie.

“I rather think it’s my turn to sport the lingerie,” she said as she slowly, and exaggeratedly sultry, sashayed towards him, as if to say _This is how it’s done properly._

He admired the view of Phryne dressed in underwear that hardly left anything to the imagination and yet somehow made her seem well-dressed. He caught her arm so he could pull her to him and down on his lap, caressing her back and side, ending up cupping her behind in both his hands. He leaned to her side and whispered in her ear, close enough to make her shiver from his warm breath:

“I think I can cope with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Phryne in lingerie, I was inspired by floating-in-the-blue's/yeoyou's wonderful fanart: https://floating-fanart.tumblr.com/tagged/mfmm.
> 
> And if anyone found the names familiar but couldn't place them, they're the ones Hugh suggests could be the sweetheart names behind the tatooed anarchist "A" in "Death at Victoria Dock".

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and suggesting improvements, Fire_Sign! ❤︎


End file.
